nine2five 18 Liar Liar
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: The beginning of the end. Kidnappings galore, long-laid plans undone at the last minute, and a few too many clever schemes. My version of Chuck vs the Subway.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **It looks like this story is beginning to diverge from canon just a little bit. Sorry about that, but it's not my fault if they didn't give the Ring a better Evil Plot.

* * *

"_I wish they'd wake up."_

"_What the hell even happened?__" _

"_Liar."_

"_Carmichael. Charles Carmichael__."_

* * *

John Casey sat and surveyed the wreckage.

Carina was asleep in his bed, carried there gently and tucked up nicely by a man who had nothing against compassion as long as no one saw him doing it. Sure, he knew where she lived and could have taken her there, but he didn't trust her security like he trusted his own. After getting tranqed twice, with a dose of antagonist in between, she wasn't going to be in the game for a while, so he just put up every layer of protection he had and left her behind.

Now he sat in his car outside the B&B, wondering what he should say, and who he should say it to. He had a mission. Chuck was missing, again, and he'd been tasked to get him back. Again. Without a chip that was gonna be tough, and Grimes could be an ally in that effort, but…she would be with him. Probably. Almost certainly. Well, 'probably' _enough_.

He was afraid. The master of strategy and tactics didn't know what to do, and he was afraid. He could admit that. As long as no one was around to hear him doing it.

* * *

"You kicked him _where_?" Morgan shook his head in wonder and winced in sympathetic pain. "Wow, you must really want to be an only child." He brought a plate and a cup. "Here you go. One slice of apple pie, and one cup of coffee, black and bitter."

She really wasn't hungry, but the coffee suited her mood. It burnt her tongue and it tasted bad and it was just what she wanted. "How'd you know?"

"Easy," he said, smiling as he sat opposite her. "You're a Casey. Or a Coburn."

"I am _not_ that man's daughter!" She slammed the cup down, spilling the coffee and burning her hand too. "Ow!"

"That's gotta sting." Morgan picked up his towel and took her hand, patting it dry gently. "Alex. Like it or not, he's your father, not 'that man.' Whatever else he may be, John Casey is Uncle Sam's most faithful servant. I can't think of anything else that could have taken him away from your mother, or you."

She watched him care for her. "He didn't know about me," she whispered. "Mom never got a chance to tell him. Not that it would have mattered."

"Of course it would have," said Morgan. "it would have made a painful decision more painful, but I think he would have made the same one. That's just the kind of man he is." He got his little bottle of Vitamin E oil, for minor burns, and started smearing it over her reddened skin. "What about your mother?"

Alex sighed. "Yeah, that's what she'd say too."

"No, I meant, are you gonna _tell_ her?"

Alex flexed her fingers, "I don't think there's anything I could tell her that she doesn't already know." _Her fiancé is still dead._ She touched the fork. "The pie looks good."

"Here, let me get that for you," said Morgan, picking up the fork and cutting off a bite of pie. "Huh? Huh?" he said, smiling as she enjoyed her food. His food.

Someone knocked on the door.

* * *

"General."

"Orion. Always a pleasure."

"Nice glasses."

"They don't go with the uniform but they get the job done as well as any Marine." His purple pixels weren't nearly so purple or stomach-churning as usual.

Her screen changed, smears of color replaced by tiny rotating cubes, shifting from black to white as they matched his movements at three-quarter speed. "I was wondering when-or more precisely _if_-you'd get clever."

_Keep wondering. _

"Where are my children?"

Beckman allowed her sorrow to show. It was perfectly genuine but she knew Orion wouldn't believe that. "I'm sorry, but we haven't made much progress yet. The ambulance was recovered but the crew was not. We aren't getting our hopes up for them, but you can never tell. Chuck's chip is not giving us a signal."

"They got him underground quickly."

"Unlikely," she said, enjoying the feeling of being one up on Orion, even for such a small thing under these circumstances. "Unless they raided the facility with a large truck, the insulation wouldn't be enough to hide the chip and they'd have to travel quite a distance to get a safe house."

No way a large truck could just roll up to the front door unnoticed. "I'm going to guess that even a CIA facility takes more precautions than that."

She wasn't technically CIA but he lumped all the clandestine services together, so she took his slight personally. "We believe we have two separate attacks here, Orion. Chuck was kidnapped after a daring daylight assault on a heavily fortified structure, not at all the Ring's style. They rely much more on stealth."

"Like stolen ambulances."

"Exactly. If you–"

"General, I'm going to pursue the Ring connection. Stealth is what I do best."

"Thank you," she said, mainly to confuse him but also because she meant it. "With you on the job, hopefully we can get there before Sarah wakes up and they find out who they kidnapped the hard way. It would be nice to take someone into custody for a change."

"Don't thank me, General, I'm not doing this for you. The sooner I can get my children back and out from under the sieve you call an umbrella, the happier we'll be." The screen went black.

General Beckman picked up her phone and walked away from her desk. In a little side room, free of any electronics, she said, "You heard all that." He'd better have. She couldn't hope to have Orion call at a known time ever again. Fear for his children had the old trouble-maker rattled.

"Yes, General."

"Then you should know that his interests are not your interests. It's time for you to decide which side your bread is buttered on, Mr. Depak."

* * *

Morgan answered the door. "Devon? What are you doing here?"

"Ellie's missing, dude," said the nervous husband, walking in without waiting for an invitation. "I spoke to her–" he noticed Alex sitting there "Uh…"

"Don't worry, she's one of us," said Morgan, closing the door. "And she's FBI."

"FBI?" Devon looked hopeful. "You guys do kidnappings, right?"

Alex covered her confusion by swallowing the lump of apple pie that had been so nice just a second ago. "We…solve them, we don't commit them…"

"Kidnapped?" said Morgan. "What do you mean, kidnapped?"

"I talked to Ellie's boss, bro. She and Sarah were supposed to go to the hospital but they were taken away in a stolen ambulance. Casey hung up on me and I can't find Chuck, so you're my only hope."

"Okay, now you're scaring me…"

"Come on, Morgan, you've worked with these guys, you got Chuck back, you've gotta have some idea…"

Morgan snapped his fingers. "I just had an idea. I know exactly where to go!"

"Where?"

"Your place. Let's move."

* * *

Someone knocked on the door, and Ellie jerked at the suddenness of it.

"Doctor Woodcombe, Mrs. Bartowski, please stand away from the door so I can enter."

_Like they aren't watching us._ Sarah was glad for the cloth over her eyes, hiding her face, her reactions.

"We are," said Ellie.

Keys rattled, and the door opened, letting in some light, some sounds, some fresher air, and a young man, carrying two purses. "I believe these are yours?" he said, handing them to Ellie.

She took them, resisting the urge to rummage.

"Everything should be there," said the man, pointing. "We just needed to verify your identities before we could plan our next steps."

_And check for weapons._ Sarah would have rolled her eyes but they still hurt.

Ellie took a firm grip on the strap, in case she needed to swing. "What next steps? Who are you?"

Someone else tapped on the door, and the man turned and opened it, accepting a box from someone outside before closing it again. "Doctor Woodcombe, since your friend is injured, even if only slightly-at least I hope so-I had them bring you this so you could treat her injuries." He handed over the box, white with a red cross on it. "I'll be glad to answer any questions you may have, although I can't guarantee you'll like the answers." He pulled up a stool and sat down, reducing the obvious threat but still between them and the door.

Ellie moved the gurney Sarah was on she could treat the wounds and keep him in view. "How about the ones I _already_ asked?"

"Who am I? Well, if it'll make you feel better, you can call me Justin." He smiled. "It's even my real name."

Ellie gave 'Justin' a funny look as she carefully dabbed at Sarah's wound with a moistened cloth. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He looked pained. "Because…well, I hate to tell you this, but you ladies have somehow gotten mixed up in some pretty bad business, and I'm, we're just trying to–" he made a crushing gesture that Ellie didn't find terribly reassuring "–contain the damage before it spirals out of control and sucks you in any farther than it already has. A lot of people here will be giving you false names , if you meet anyone other than me at all. We'll try to keep that to a minimum, though. The less you know the better off you are."

"What kind of 'business'?" She swabbed on some disinfectant, and it stung, making her patient gasp. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Try to hold still." She flicked a glance up at Justin. "Well? What business?"

"Do either of you know a man named Daniel Shaw?"

"No," said Ellie, who was fortunately telling the truth. "Sarah?"

Sarah shook her head, then gasped in pain.

"I told you not to move. Who's this Shaw guy, and why do you think I would know him?"

"You've been getting some threatening phone calls, haven't you, Dr. Woodcombe? A late night visitor?"

Ellie glared at him. "How do you know that?"

"We have eyes and ears everywhere, Doctor. Daniel Shaw was the man in your house. Are you sure you have no idea why he would be there?"

"What? No, I have no idea why he'd be stalking me! Or you, with your fake names and your eyes and ears! Who the hell _are_ you?"

Justin sighed. "We're the government, Doctor. I work for the CIA, and Daniel Shaw used to be one of ours."

* * *

Chuck shifted his grip, holding Carmichael's head in place as he slammed his own head forward, hitting Carmichael at the bridge of his nose. As Carmichael fell back, Chuck pulled his legs in, braced his feet against the other man's chest and pushed, throwing his attacker onto the floor. "Liar!" he said, allowing momentum to bring him to his feet. "What are you really, Shaw? Some kind of Ring double agent, you faked your own death?"

Carmichael's eyes fluttered. "Death. In a lab, strapped to a table. Needles in my back."

_Oh crap._ "No, death in a pit, the floor collapsing under you as you saved my life."

The fluttering stopped and Carmichael frowned. "You don't deserve to live."

Chuck flashed. Fire and razor blades tore into his brain, his body, as the knowledge he needed flooded his mind with pain. Carmichael saw his enemy writhing in pain and rolled to his feet, springing to the attack. Chuck felt the impact as a distant thing, and his new reflexes shrugged it off, but he could not focus on an attack.

The phone rang.

Neither of the men in the room took time out to answer it. Carmichael got in a few hits, early on, while Chuck was still seeing double and tried to block the wrong phantom limb. Chuck, for his part, wasn't trying to kill Carmichael so much as stop him before too many of Sarah's most precious mementos got damaged. He wasn't sure but it sure sounded like they'd already taken out the end table, with her favorite photo, and he knew she was going to blame him.

Which meant he'd need to keep the couch intact, since he'd be sleeping on it for a while.

The damn phone kept ringing, distracting him with an almost instinctive urge to–the answering machine kicked in. Finally. "Chuck!" said the phone in Morgan's voice, "Sarah and Ellie have been kidnapped–"

Both men stopped, turning to stare at the phone.

"I'm with Devon and Alex, we're going to talk to the General, I have an idea. Call me when you get this."

Chuck threw up his hands. He had no more time for this. "Shaw, listen to me, we have to stop this! My wife is in danger!"

"No, Bartowski, _my_ wife is in danger. My…wife…" Carmichael stopped, shaking his head, blinking furiously.

"That's right, uh, Charles," said Chuck, stepping further out onto their common ground. "Sarah, _our_ Sarah, is in danger. We have to find her, we have to help her."

Carmichael kicked out, sweeping Chuck's legs out from under him as he grabbed him by the neck and slammed his body through the coffee table.

"You're partly right, Chuck," said Daniel Shaw. "We have to find her. Then I can kill her. Agent Walker killed my wife. Now I get to return the favor."

* * *

**A/N2 **Please review, tell me what you think of this monster.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **Time to regroup.

* * *

"_You kicked him _where_?" _

"_You heard all that?"_

"_Who the hell are you?"_

"_Agent Walker killed my wife."_

* * *

Chuck lay on the floor, stunned, hearing words like 'Agent Walker' and 'kill' in the same sentence, and he instantly responded. "No! Don't kill…need…please…" He gripped the arm holding him down, but he was in no position to free himself.

Then the arm holding him relaxed slightly. "Don't worry, Chuck," said Daniel Shaw. "You're a good boy. After she's dead, I'll take care of you."

'Good Boy' Chuck answered automatically, "I didn't say anything, Agent Shaw."

Shaw smiled his plastic smile. "I know you didn't, Chuck." He shifted his hand, and the arm that forced Chuck down with such force lifted him up with equal ease. "I'm sorry I knocked you down, but I…I felt like…" Shaw paused, shaking his head slightly. He couldn't remember what he'd felt, exactly. He hadn't felt much in a very long time, but surely the idea that Chuck was a threat was ridiculous!

Chuck considered his options. Shaw was much stronger than he was, but he had the advantage in reach, and apparently in sanity as well. Fighting the guy was not his preferred option, but the second he could get a tranq dart or twelve into that broad back–! His gun was right there in the couch, all Shaw had to do was turn around.

Shaw turned around. "Come on, Chuck, we have to get going."

"Where?" asked Chuck, keeping in character until Shaw took another step or two.

"I have to go kill Agent Walker, and I can't leave you alone, so you have to come with me."

"You know where Agent Walker is?"

"Not exactly," said Shaw. "I know where I escaped from, just yesterday, and I know where all the other Ring bases are–"

Chuck shivered, rethinking his devious tranq-related plot. "You do?"

"Yes," said Shaw, his voice going soft. "It's…odd…I just have to think about them, and….it's like a dream…" His eyes fluttered, and his voice grew firm again. "I think I know where they would have taken her, and if she's not there, I'll just keep on going. We'll find her, eventually. Are you ready?"

Chuck flapped his robe. "I, I have to, um, get dressed."

"Good idea, Chuck," said Shaw approvingly. "Go do that, but please be quick."

"I will, Agent Shaw." Chuck shuffled to his bedroom, wanting to run.

* * *

Ellie's voice dripped with sarcasm. "The CIA hires psycho stalkers?"

"Daniel Shaw was one of our greatest agents, but it's a stressful job, and even the greatest can crack," said Justin, watching them carefully. "You should know that, considering you were at a CIA psychiatric facility today."

"That place was CIA? Wow, you're right about the cracking." Ellie's eyes got wide, and she looked down at her patient. "Hey! Sarah…?"

Sarah clearly muttered _Great!_ "Thanks a lot for outing my husband, Mr. Timberlake." Then she gave a great gusty sigh. "Yes, Ellie, he works for the CIA."

Justin sat up straighter.

"Even the damn CIA needs janitors. It's not like they can just call a service."

Justin sat down again. His bombshell had fizzled. That was unfortunate. These two seemed like nice people and good friends. It would be a shame to torture them, but…whatever. It's not like they were going to have to live with the consequences. He stood. "If there are no more questions, ladies, I'll go and have a talk with my superiors, see what I can do about getting you on your way again."

"You're locking us in again?" asked Ellie.

"No, Doctor," said Justin, "I'm locking everyone else out. Remember, the less you know, the better." He smiled and closed the door, not noticing that she didn't smile back.

Ellie moved her hand, in Sarah's grasp, pressing 1-2-3-4 into her palm.

Sarah pressed back 1-3-1-3.

* * *

"A janitor?"

"Correct, Leader," said Justin. "There is a Charles Bartowski in Interiors Maintenance. Normally he works in the main building but one of the patients has started, uh, 'marking his territory', so to speak, so he was reassigned yesterday." He hadn't bothered getting any more details but Leader almost certainly didn't want these.

Even the robotic voice carried a hint of irritation. The loss of their experiment at this critical juncture would make anyone just a bit…testy. "Do you know why I am called Leader, Agent?" Leader couldn't be bothered learning the names of anyone below the rank of Force Leader.

Justin thought carefully, unpleasantly sure that this was a trick question. "Because you…lead?"

"Because I am not about to let an underling do my thinking for me. You will send this Bartowski fellow's file to me now. And it had better be more detailed than your report. Go."

Justin nodded, almost bowed. "Yes, Leader."

Leader did not wait for the file to appear, an Evil Plot has so many details to keep track of.

* * *

The door unlocked, and flew open.

"Where?" said Morgan intently.

"Over there, on the right," replied Devon, pointing. As Morgan hobbled off, he added, "I told you you should have gone before we left." He turned around. "Hey, come on in, Alex. We're all family here at Casa Woodcombe."

"Thank you," she said, stepping through the doorway. Sweeping her eyes over the room, she almost couldn't tell that a home invasion had taken place. The only real sign was the new door, but she thought she could see smudges of powder here and there.

"Can I get you anything?" asked her host. "I always keep a protein shake in the fridge, or I can put on some coffee…"

She didn't want to be trouble. Plus this looked like something big happening, so quick and nutritious would have to do. All she'd had lately was a little apple pie, not likely to see her through this, whatever this was. "The shake will be fine, thanks."

He gave her a wide grin. "Awesome."

She shook her head as he walked into the kitchen. When had her taste in men started running to shorter, darker, and bearded? She heard the blender start up, and shortly the blond god was coming back her way, a tall glass in each hand, full of something green.

"Here we go, some gas for the tank." He handed her one and raised the other to his lips, gulping it down in one long pull.

As she copied him, Morgan came out of the bathroom. "Alex, no!"

Startled, she lowered the glass. "What?" she asked, licking her lips.

Morgan stared at her. "You're alive," he said in wonder. "You drank one of Awesome's shakes and it didn't kill you…?"

She swatted him on the shoulder. "It's delicious," she said, finishing the glass. "Is there more?"

Another bright grin. "Always." He took her glass and headed for the kitchen again. "The recipe is Chuck's by the way. He said it didn't have to taste like roadkill."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Morgan, coming after him. "Chuck's tasted your shakes? How many men were holding him down?"

"None, dude," said Devon, laughing. "He came to me for workouts and stuff."

"Voluntarily?" Shakes or workouts, it didn't really matter which. "And you never told anybody?"

Suddenly Devon put it all in context. "Whoa. Not awesome."

"Not awesome at all, dude. Quick, how does Ellie contact her boss? You've gotta have something here."

Devon put the glasses down. "Yeah, the…TV." He turned it on, set it to channel 0. "General Beckman."

The screen lit immediately, no waiting to track her down. "Doctor Woodcombe, I told you I would–" she stopped when she saw she had an audience of more than one. "Ah. Guests for your stay in Leavenworth, I see."

Devon pointed. "Morgan had an idea about where Ellie might be, General."

"And Miss McHugh?"

"She's with the FBI," said Morgan.

"I'm a trainee, Morgan."

The General recognized the look of someone caught up in another's enthusiasm. "You'll be a trainee when the next session starts, Miss McHugh." Beckman turned her frown on Morgan. "That makes her a civilian with a photo ID, Mr. Grimes, not an agent with training wheels."

"Okay, fine, arrest me twice, I'll take hers," said Morgan. "The point is, I know where Ellie is, and Sarah."

The General's clasped hands were white-knuckled, but her voice was steady. "And how do you know this?"

* * *

"Colonel Casey, what is your situation?"

"I'm standing in Morgan Grimes' apartment, General. I was planning to ask his assistance again, looking for Chuck, but it seems like he was kidnapped too." Food on the table, signs of struggle, and the door standing wide open.

"Unfortunately not, Colonel," said Beckman, sounding tired. "He, Doctor Woodcombe, and your daughter were just at Ellie's house for a meeting with me."

"With _you_?"

"Don't say it like that, Colonel, I didn't _ask_ them to. Your 'assistant' convinced himself that he knew where the quote bad guys are unquote, and dragged the others along in his wake. I can see Devon following out of desperation, but I would have thought Miss McHugh would know better."

_Alex? This just keeps getting better and better. _"She's got his six, General," said Casey, letting the pride show while keeping the anxiety under wraps.

Beckman's sigh was loud enough to be heard over the phone. "I thought as much, Colonel. He'll need that, where he's going."

"Where's he going?" asked Casey, in a voice not usually used to senior officers.

"All he said was _you'll know_, and then he dragged his, well, cohorts, off with him to do recon until you arrived."

_Recon? With Alex? _"I'll know?"

"Yes, something about a lab you discovered while searching for Chuck. I've got the Lensmen searching your reports of the affair, but I hope you remember the location."

Casey headed back to his car, stomping the stairs like they were Grimes' body. "I'll send you the GPS coordinates, General. And when you send backup, make sure they have body bags, they're gonna need at least one."

* * *

_Orion?_

YES, MANOOSH?

_Have you figured out the problem with the brain waves yet?_

NO, I HAVEN'T HAD TIME. I'M CONDUCTING THE SEARCH FOR ELLIE AND AGENT CARMICHAEL.

_I've got something I need to say to you. _

SAY IT, THEN.

_Switch to visual, please._ Manoosh made sure he stood in the right spot. The screen shifted, losing the text in favor of a screen full of rotating cubes. "What happened to the purple?" He liked the purple.

"Beckman got some tech to counter it. I knew she would eventually." Orion packed a lot of contempt into _eventually_.

"She caught on to something else," said Manoosh, sounding unhappy. "She knows we've been communicating, that you've been sending me the Intersect Code."

"Damn. I was hoping it would take her longer…"

Manoosh yelled, "You expected it?"

"Of course I did," replied Orion calmly. "You're good, Manoosh, but you're not that good. If you were you'd have shown up on someone's radar long before this."

"Why?"

"I told you, I needed hands."

"Oh yeah? How about _this _hand?" Manoosh held one hand up to the screen , one finger extended. "You like this hand?"

"There's no need to be rude, son…"

"Don't call me 'son'. We both know who your son is and we both know who you're leaving me hung out to dry for." Manoosh pulled his back to his chest, finger still extended.

"I'm not hanging you out to dry, Manoosh–"

"Goodbye, Orion. Anything I find from here on out I report to North Star first, and you never." Manoosh reached out and killed the screen, then activated a firewall of his own devising. Then he turned on his number 2 monitor. "You heard, General?"

Beckman nodded, smiling. "I heard, Mr. Depak. You made the right choice."

* * *

Orion sat back. _Well, that went about as well as it could have._ Manoosh had worried a little about his ability to stage the breakup convincingly, wanted it to be amicable. Orion knew that the more heat the better, from Beckman's point of view, and he was glad to see his protégé was able to get into the role. He replayed the scene, the extended finger pointing… A little graphic on the number three screen, a wave form going through a series of changes, on repeat.

_What is that?_

* * *

Carina jerked awake. Waking up in strange beds wasn't unusual for her, but not knowing how she got there was. Maybe the hangover? No, that wasn't a hangover, she recognized the symptoms of tranq-head. Twice in one day, oh God.

She rolled over. The table by the bed had some painkillers and a glass of water, with a sign: _Take these_. Masculine handwriting, looked like Casey's. Casey's house? Groaning, she sat up and reached for the pills. Still dressed. Of course she was still dressed. She had to go.

The door was locked, and the thermostat had a sign posted next to it. _Speak your name clearly._ She leaned in close to the heating unit. "Carina Miller," she said, not feeling at all stupid.

"Voiceprint recognized. Internal security deactivated," said the wall. The bedroom door unlocked with a _thunk!_

First stop, bathroom, next stop living room. She turned on the TV, set it to channel 0. "General Beckman."

The screen lit immediately. Either it was earlier than she thought, or something big was happening. She knew what time it was, so she wasn't betting on option number one.

"Agent Miller, you're feeling better?"

Definitely something big, she actually sounds concerned. "I'm awake, General, and something tells me that'll have to do. What's the situation?"

* * *

**A/N2 **There's not a lot from the Subway I can use here, but I'm trying to keep the pacing right.

All my major characters are in motion, but where are they in motion to?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Time to get a few more plates spinning.

* * *

"_I'll take care of you." _

"_You will send this Bartowski fellow's file to me now.__"_

"_Make sure they have body bags."_

"_What's the situation?"_

* * *

"We're lost, dude."

"We're not lost, Awesome," said Morgan peevishly. "We just don't know where we are yet. Take that next right. Or was it a left?"

Alex leaned forward from the back seat. "Morgan, you did find a Ring base, didn't you?"

"Of course we found one, Alex," said Morgan, spreading his hands to indicate the darkness and everything else beyond the windshield. "But that was by daylight, and who knew one city could have so many warehouse districts anyway. Yeah, this is looking familiar."

"It looks familiar because we've been down this street three times," muttered Devon.

"We were going the other way before, going this way I recognize things better. There! Go left, go left!"

"I can't, dude, there's no lefts allowed here."

"Didn't stop Casey."

"It didn't?"

"No, it didn't. And right after you turn you'll see a rusty sign for Edison Oil, I remember 'cause it reminded me I had to order more light bulbs for the restaurant."

"Okay, but you better be right, dude." Awesome turned.

Morgan pointed at the sign in the headlights. "Huh? Huh?"

Devon smiled. "Awesome. Finally something's going right."

A police car started flashing its lights behind them.

"Dude, you're paying it," growled Devon as he pulled over.

Morgan stared at his shoes, and he couldn't even see them. "Fine."

Devon didn't wait for the tap on the window to roll it down. "Evening Officer." He had his paperwork ready to hand over, too.

The policeman didn't quite shine the light into his face, but Devon still had to squint. "Are you aware that there's no left turn back there, sir?"

Devon grimaced. "That's what I told my navigator, sir."

The policeman had heard it all before. "You're the pilot, sir."

"I am, officer," said Devon, nodding, "And I accept the responsibility. All I can say in my defense is that our mission is critically urgent, and we're already running behind schedule." Or they would be, if they had a schedule.

The policeman heard that story too, but there was just something about this driver that had him almost believing it. He aimed his light more directly. "Let me guess, a matter of life and death."

Devon looked up into the light, unblinking. "It could very well be."

"If they haven't been killed already," muttered Morgan.

"What was that, sir?" asked the policeman, bending to shine his light on the passengers.

"Nothing."

"Raise your head, sir, if you don't mind."

Morgan complied, and the policeman stared at him for a second.

"Wait right here." The officer walked off with Devon's ID.

* * *

Carina left Casey's house, feeling in her pocket for…Sarah's keys. With no trace of Sarah's car to use them on. _Great._ She got out her phone, selected a contact. It almost rang twice.

"This is Lensman One. Sorry, Two. I'm Two, he's One."

Wonderful. Now they can't even tell _themselves_ apart. "I don't care which one you are, I need a pick-up." Casey'd been called off his search for Chuck to intercept Morgan, so the Lensmen had been detailed to watch the house in case of some activity there.

"Negative, Stampede. Our subject has left his house in the presence of another male, fitting the description of Daniel Shaw, and we are following."

Carina froze, remembering Chuck's urgent voice: 'Shaw and Carmichael, they're working together.' "Shaw's dead." _I killed him._ Or did she? Had Shaw ever really died? Did he think Chuck was still Carmichael?

"Then it's either his twin, his ghost, or a zombie."

"I vote for zombie." Lensman One's voice was clearly audible.

"I told you, zombies don't drive."

Carina sighed. "Can you get a car sent? I'm at Dirtnap's place."

"Will do, Stampede."

* * *

Officer Murphy went back to the car and gave Devon his papers back.

"Your record's clean, Doctor Woodcombe, so I'm gonna let you off with a warning this time, and some advice. Don't try going any further down this road, there was some kind of industrial accident in a warehouse, major structural damage, possible sinkhole, the whole thing's blocked off. You got some place you need to be quick, turn around and go some other way."

"Major structural collapse?"

Morgan pounded his head on the dash. "No wonder we're all turned around, it's the wrong warehouse! We wanted the second one, not the third one!"

"Where's the second warehouse?" asked Alex.

Morgan answered automatically. "Four-five-nine Darella Street, but I don't–" His head lifted in shock.

Devon glared at him. "Dude, it's a good thing I'm a doctor, 'cause when this is over and everyone's back safe, I'm gonna hurt you real bad."

"You have no time, sir," said the policeman. "Darella Street's quite a way from here, in a bad part of town. You sure you and the young lady'll be all right?" He sounded dubious.

"Backup's already been called, officer. Thank you for your concern." Devon turned the car around and went the way he'd come in, as the officer watched.

Once they were out of sight he got on the radio. "Be advised, the subjects are headed to four-five-nine Darella Street. You guys know what to do."

* * *

Orion stared at the recording of his global scanner. _Manoosh is right, it's really quite pretty._ He'd never paid it much attention before, his concern always with function over aesthetics. He'd created the Intersect, but not this newest version. Only his daughter and Manoosh had made that version the workable thing it had become. He was sorry to lose Manoosh.

But even as the young man was saying he'd only report his new findings to North Star, he'd been reporting his latest finding to Orion. His graphic on the screen over his shoulder was the clue Orion needed to save his son. Not from whoever had kidnapped him from the psychiatric facility, but from the Intersect itself.

Manoosh had seen what he'd had no time to see, no interest to even notice. A fifth wave in the scanner, so small it looked like a simple line on the bottom of the screen, a regular repeating pattern that looked nothing like a normal brain wave and had been ignored by everyone, until it wasn't there. Manoosh had found it, found everything.

Orion turned away from the recording, back to the graphic. Manoosh had the idea to normalize the other waves, transform them until they looked the same. Once that same transformation was applied to the hidden waves, they all turned out to be identical, as he'd suspected they would. A regular, repeating pattern that looked nothing like a normal brain wave, a resonant form of the miniscule wave that had been there all along.

Or at least, since Chuck was nine. When he'd snuck into his father's lab and triggered the first upload of the first Intersect prototype, its files empty of content, nothing but the signal itself. Chuck's brain had absorbed that signal, adapted to it, in a way that no adult's brain ever would. Even Chuck's brain shouldn't have done it, but his son was special.

Stephen J. Bartowski had never known such horror as he did that day, finding Chuck sitting slack-eyed and drooling in his chair. Never known such surprise as when his son has rubbed his eyes and asked him what he was talking about. He had known his son was special, but then he knew _how_ special, and Orion felt his doom settle on his shoulders.

He had to save his son. And now he knew how.

* * *

"Can you…turn off the lights?" asked Sarah, touching a hand to the cloth over her eyes.

Ellie looked at the door. "I don't see a light switch."

"Can you take the bulb out?"

Ellie looked up, at what appeared to be a standard light fixture. "I can try." She pulled over the other gurney to stand on. She moved the shield to one side and fumbled with the bulb, unable to see how it fastened in against the glare. Rotating the bulb, she felt it slip out of the fixture and come loose in her hands. She lay the bulb down carefully on the gurney and hopped down, making a loud crunching noise as her feet hit the floor.

"What was that?" asked Sarah.

"I stepped on something." Ellie picked it up as Sarah removed the cloth in the dimmer light.

Sarah looked at what was in her hands and smiled. "Better than I expected."She hopped off the gurney, swaying a little at the sudden movement.

"What?" asked Ellie, steadying her.

"I knew they were watching us." Sarah pulled a pin from her hair and snapped it in half. "That's why I wanted the lights off, but you took out the camera and the mike too." She knelt at the door with her makeshift loockpicks in hand. "We have to get of here now."

"Why?" asked Ellie. "They can't come in to replace it without admitting it was there to begin with."

"The next agent to come through this door won't be coming to replace the bulb, Ellie. They wanted to know what you knew about Shaw. If we'd told them anything they would have killed us then. Since we didn't–"

Ellie took a sharp breath. "They're going to 'jog our memories.'"

Sarah nodded. "Torture us, then kill us." The lock clicked. _Beat that, Chuck._

"Did your eyes really hurt?" asked Ellie as Sarah opened the door and looked for guards.

"A little," whispered Sarah. "I played it up a bit, and you really sold it. Now let's go."

* * *

Carina raced from the car, knowing the driver would wait on her return. She reached for her lock picks and touched Sarah's keys instead. Opening the door, she turned and placed her hand on the plate to disable the security. A first glance noticed the page on the table, a series of numbers that would become coordinates if treated properly. At the top was note, "The best and the brightest", with the initials DS. She took a photo with her phone's camera and sent it to Beckman, then ran into the bedroom.

She saw nothing, no drives, no discs, no open laptops waiting for input. _Dammit. _She sat down on the bed, and paper crinkled. _Paper? Chuck?_

Lifting a corner of Chuck's robe, she found a notebook with a note, "Going with Shaw to find the Ring. He wants to kill Sarah."

She ripped off the paper and ran out of the house. In the car, she turned to the driver and said, "We need to contact the Lensman, find out where they are, Mr.…?"

"Call me Showtunes, Agent Miller. Everybody does."

* * *

Leader sat back at last, all the necessary reports carefully filed, each analysis of current data made and logged against intended results. Plans plugged into plans, and all plans led to one final objective, just as all Leaders were subordinate to Leader.

One last item in the inbox. Ah yes, the Bartowski file. One look at its properties and Leader moved it to the main screen.

It was far too small. Leader knew both the minimum and average sizes of a CIA personnel file and this one failed to meet either parameter. Bartowski, Charles I. Formerly employed at a Buy More, five years. No signs of advancement. No raises. No duties. A blank slate.

Lived with his sister. No details on her either.

Married to a waitress at a yogurt shop, moved to DC when _she_ got transferred, so it was clear who wore the pants in their family. No other details on the wife.

Performance history…apparently the only difference between him and the fungus was that he had the scraper. How on Earth did he get a job as a CIA janitor? Even they should have higher standards than that.

Last came the photo. Bartowski appeared to be as dull and characterless as his description, his face unlined, his expression…bovine. Leader passed the image to the facial analyzer, a standard part of the process that had apparently not been followed in this case. Justin's name was removed from the list for the front lines, the most forgiveness he would receive, and the data tech's name was added.

A window flashed red on the console. The photo had returned, with the analyzer's verdict: _Composite_. "Force Leader, Operations."

When leader stayed up late, every Force Leader stayed up late. "Yes, Leader?"

"Put the Bartowski woman under level one watch, and send me a current image."

* * *

John Casey two blocks away from Darella Street, the most his concern for his daughter would allow his instinct for security to delay him.

His nose wrinkled as he got out of his car, locking it down. He'd been in third-world nations that smelled better than this. Even the Ring should have turned up its nose – literally – at this location, but he couldn't assume that. Even if they had, this area at this time of night, was dangerous in its own right. A full tac team with flamethrowers would feel threatened.

Movement! Hairtrigger senses picked up something, a flash, a smell, something that didn't belong in the alley he was passing, and he turned to deal with the threat.

"Aah!" someone shouted.

John looked down. A bum in a cardboard box, threat assessment zero. The bum was staring at his gun, even though it was pointed safely away.

"You want my shoes?" yelled the guy in panic. "You want my shoes? Take 'em! Take 'em!" He started fumbling with his feet.

"No, I don't want your shoes," said Casey in disgust. Sarah was right, even Grimes' pathetic aspirations were better than this. He left the alley, continuing his advance.

The warehouse looked like a crumbling wreck, isolated in a yard full of debris. But the gate was new, and the sensors clearly visible to those with eyes to see. Which Grimes didn't have.

_Where the hell are they?_

Upstairs, a door closed.

_They're already inside!_

He raced across the yard, risking the stairs, but like everything else they only appeared ready to collapse. The door opened on an empty hall, with half-opened doors leading to empty rooms. He checked each room and closed the doors as he went.

On the other side of the last door, something made a snapping sound. Casey kicked the door in and led with his gun.

A man sat at a desk, calmly putting something in his mouth. "John Casey," he said with smirking satisfaction in his voice. "I've been expecting you." He held out his hand, with a plastic case in it. "Tic-tac, Colonel?"

"Keller," snarled Casey. The urge to kill the man who'd destroyed his daughter's life was strong but he had to know she was safe first. "I'm not going to let you threaten my daughter any more."

Keller looked surprised. "You have a daughter? Good to know." He surged up, tipping over his desk, and Casey jumped back.

Alarms started blaring, taking both men by surprise.

_A trap!_

John fell back, closing the door as a partial shield against Keller's gun, and ran back down the hall. No shots were fired. No doors opened, no squads of goons jumped him. Casey reached the front door in safety, and pulled it open.

A bum stood on the stairs, reeking. He fired twice, and Casey felt the tingle of the tranq darts. "Should have taken the shoes, Colonel."

Casey sank to his knees, trying to lift his gun.

Someone pushed his arm down again. "Still with us, John?" asked Keller. "Hit him again. Then find me his daughter, she's gotta be around here somewhere. I warned you, John, you have to cut those ties. Now it's gonna cost you."

The 'bum' fired a third and final time.

* * *

When the red alert went off, Leader was as surprised as any underling, but not for long. "What has occurred, Force Leader?"

"The two women are gone, Leader. A security patrol has been found disabled. We assume one or both are armed and dangerous. Images are being distributed."

Leader looked at the files as they came in. The brunette was unfamiliar. The blonde was…"She is asleep?"

"She was brought in unconscious, Leader. Practically the first thing she did on waking was complain of the light and cover her eyes."

_Not her eyes,_ thought Leader, or not just her eyes, bright blue as they were. Her face. Not that it would do her any good. Leader knew that face too well, and now the name to go with it. "Miss Walker. Mrs. Carmichael. How nice to make your acquaintance."

* * *

**A/N2 **Hans Gruber, eat your heart out.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **The last dominoes.

* * *

"_We're lost, dude."_

"_You guys know what to do.__"_

"_They're going to 'jog our memories.'"_

"_How nice to make your acquaintance."_

* * *

Chuck sat quite still as the car jostled and bumped its way into the dilapidated parking lot.

"Here we are, Chuck," said Daniel Shaw unnecessarily. He pulled out his gun and Chuck flinched. "It's just a gun, Chuck, nothing to be alarmed about. You know I would never hurt you, right?"

"I know, Agent Shaw."

"Good. Now I'm going to go kill Agent Walker and be right back. Be a good boy and stay in the car."

"I will, Agent Shaw."

Shaw nodded. "I know you will." Then he got out of the car and moved into the shadows of the lot, to a rusty door set into a graffiti-marked brick wall.

The second he went in Chuck got out of the car, shuffled over to the parking lot ramp and waved. Instantly a pair of headlights blinded him, as the Lensmen pulled up and into the lot next to Shaw's vehicle. Chuck shuffled over as they got out. "Hey, guys."

"You made us?" asked Two, giving One a dirty look.

Chuck shook his head. "I knew you'd have my back, though. I mean, come on, you're Lensmen." They only looked confused. "You do know who the Lensmen _are_, don't you?"

One shrugged. "I thought it was just part of the whole Eagle-Eye motif, you know?"

"You also thought zombies could drive," muttered Two.

Chuck had no time for petty squabbles. "Come on guys, this is no time to you _what_?"

"There, you see?" said Two. Time to get down to business. "Where are we, Eagle-Eye?"

"Ring Base. Daniel Shaw has them all in his head, don't ask me how, but he brought me to this one to kill Agent Carmichael."

Both Lensmen went for their guns. "What's he wanna do that for?"

This was _not_ the time for the truth. "Short version…" Chuck took a deep breath. "There is no short version. He's not in his right mind, the Ring must have done something very nasty to him after the floor caved in, but he's also still functional and extremely dangerous."

"And you think we should follow him into a Ring base with just these?" Two held up his weapon.

Chuck looked at the two guns skeptically. "Maybe you're right," he said. He unzipped his coveralls. "You should use these instead." He pulled his uniform apart, revealing the armory he had hung all over his body, the entire contents of Sarah's weapons cache, that she kept stored in their bedroom closet.

The Lensmen's eyes bugged out, all four of them.

"If you could take some of this stuff off me, that'd be great," said Chuck. "I can barely stand up, and forget running." As his team lightened his burden, Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. "Spare magazines in the pockets." They delved. "Oh, thank God. Leave the non-lethal stuff, I'll use that." He removed the coveralls, folded them neatly, and stuck them in their car.

The two Lensmen looked at each other, and him, in surprise. "You're coming with us?"

Chuck's face settled in resolved lines. "They call me Charles Carmichael, gentlemen, and this is why." He watched as his team almost saluted, and added, "But please, don't tell the wife if you don't have to. She'll kick my ass if I get hurt."

* * *

Finished.

Orion looked at his code, the last thing he would ever have to write for this damned project. So simple, so basic. It would save his son's life, save his mind. And then it would save his life, make him useless to the government forever. Orion had broken him, all those years ago, blighted his life with a unique ability that governments would kill for. It was Orion's responsibility to fix that. His son would be free.

Whether he wanted to be or not.

Beckman was right about one thing, damn her. Chuck would do what he thought he needed to do, to help others. He would, he might, refuse his father's gift in the name of some idea of duty, or even love, lock himself and his sister in a CIA cage. That mustn't be allowed to happen. Manoosh would happily take Ellie's place, but only _he_ could…Orion had never lied to his son and he regretted the necessity now, but Chuck couldn't be allowed to know about the second block until after he'd uploaded it.

Orion took a pair of sunglasses and loaded his trap, then baited it.

* * *

"Is it just me, or does this feel too easy?" asked Ellie, in low tones, as she crept along behind Sarah.

"It's just you," said Sarah. "You remember what Carina said, how the Ring seems to be doing things on the cheap. That camera you crushed is an example. Normally–" she stopped to look around the corner "Normally, this whole place would be wired, with a central security booth and everything."

"So that's good, right? Less coverage?"

"Decentralized coverage. Harder to see, and you have to keep looking." Sarah looked all around, and up. "I've been trying to stick to dark places, the cameras require a certain light level, but we're going to run out of those eventually."

"You do have a plan, right?"

_As much of a plan as I can have when I was brought in unconscious._ Not that Ellie needed to hear that just now. "Yes. It involves that stairwell–" she pointed with her stolen gun. Then she opened the door to a closet "And this dark room. Now all we have to do is wait for the–"

Lights flared everywhere, and bells rang.

Sarah pushed Ellie into the closet and ran for the stairwell door. She popped it open and took a number of precise shots before racing back to the closet. She closed the door most of the way, keeping it open just a little to watch the stairwell door.

"What was that all about?"

"Probably found those guards I took out. They're expecting us to try to escape, so I gave them an escape attempt. The stairs would be one of the few places they'd monitor, so I shot out all the sensors above and below us. Now we let the guards chase upstairs after us and wonder where we went."

"Where _are_ we going?"

"Down. Shaw was always saying how the Ring always has a back door, so I think we should see if he was right."

* * *

General Beckman's email was not one of those things that Orion had ever hacked, so he never saw the image Carina sent her boss. He was practically standing over that boss' shoulder when she started tasking satellites for scans of a variety of sites all over the country, though. Warehouses in some cities, office buildings in others, none of them were in places where she could just lob a missile down their throats and call it a good days' work. She could, however, set agents in motion watching and infiltrating those sites. She wanted as much intel as possible for her emergency meeting with the National Security Advisor and the FBI, enough to make sure they got the job done while her team got the credit. As for the local sites, well, they had assets on the ground there, they had to do _something_.

Orion didn't care about credit. He cared about getting these glasses to his son. Since Carina's hand had shut off the security in his son's house, he'd put a trace on her phone. Hopefully it would lead to Charles' location in time to do him some good.

* * *

Carina opened her door. "Wait right here, Showtunes."

"You got it, Agent Miller."

She ran to the gate, peeking around it to verify the sensors, guards, or the lack of same. The two cars parked right in front were reassuring, in a way, any alarms to be tripped would already be tripped, so no one should notice her.

She recognized the Lensmen's car, so she went to the other one first. It wasn't a Tesla or a Matrix, so Shaw probably stole it to get Chuck. Neither man was in it, and Carina hoped Shaw hadn't dragged Chuck into the lion's den with him. Sarah would have all their hides. But of course, that's exactly what Shaw must have done, and the Lensmen went in to get their protectee back. It's the only scenario that made sense.

Until she looked in the other car. Why would Shaw have made Chuck take off his clothes? Why would Chuck's detail fold them? Carina opened the door and took the folded coveralls back to her ride.

"What you got there, Agent Miller?" asked Showtunes.

She showed him the outfit.

Showtunes lost his smile. "That's whose house we was at?"

Carina frowned. "Yeah?"

"And he's been captured?"

"Kidnapped, yeah. And his…Agent Walker." _While I was supposed to be guarding him._ "I need to get him back. The kidnapper's going after Walker, to kill her, and he dragged Chuck along with him."

Showtunes was surprisingly quick on the uptake. "Wait, you're saying we got two kidnappings at the same time?"

Carina nodded. "With our guys caught in the middle."

"Muffin ain't gonna like that." Showtunes leapt on the radio, changing the frequency. "Dimples, this is Showtunes! Dimples, please respond!"

The radio crackled. "Go for Dimples."

"Code Red One for Tough Guy, sir. And Agent Walker too."

"I'll call out the troops, and inform Ladyfeelings. Leave a light on for us."

"We'll be waiting." Showtunes racked the mike, noticed his passenger staring at him. "What? Janitors gotta stick together." He opened the door and got out of the car, popping the trunk. "Let's gear up."

* * *

Somewhere across town, John Casey's phone rang, but John Casey was in no shape to answer it. The minion who'd been tasked with inventorying his possessions heard the unusual ringtone. He checked the prisoner's clothes, finding the phone in a hidden pocket, and checked the screen. "Dimples?" What kind of name was that? _Probably some broad._ He removed the battery and tossed the pieces to one side.

* * *

Dimples didn't waste any time over the sudden loss of signal. He sent out a general call. "Gentlemen, it looks like Ladyfeelings is among the missing as well. Converge on Showtunes' location and we'll take it from there."

* * *

"Report."

"Leader, our agents report no movement among the troops assigned to John Casey's command. No local mobilizations of any kind."

This was getting on Leader's nerves. "You expect me to believe that Marine Colonel of the NSA came here alone? Simply to protect a daughter that no one even knew he had?"

The minion started to sweat. "That explanation…would fit the facts as we have gathered them so far."

So far. "You are correct, Agent. What of the women?"

Much safer ground. "Search teams are working their way downward but have not retrieved them yet."

Leader considered all the elements of the problem, and found the minion's report…lacking. "Why downward?"

* * *

The upside to going down was that it was a lot easier than going up. The downside was that there really wasn't a lot of down to go.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Ellie, panting.

Sarah scanned the room, full of electrical panels and high voltage switches. "It's better than going up and being captured again."

"I am…unable to argue with your logic."

_Thought you might be._ "Look at it this way. If there was no back door down here, wouldn't _this_ be where you'd put your prison, not the middle?"

"I give up."

"Quitter."

Somebody calm and male said, from behind her, "That's not what she means, Agent Walker."

Sarah spun and aimed faster than ever in her life, but too late. The man with the calm voice wasn't the man with the razor held at Ellie's throat. He was exposed, but the man standing behind with the gun to her head wasn't. Now she heard footsteps, as more men moved in behind her. Sarah moved her thumb, pressing the release, and the magazine fell out the grip. Then she ejected the one loaded round, making no effort to catch the bullet.

"Very wise, _Mrs. Bartowski_," said the Task Force Leader. "Or do you prefer Agent Carmichael? No?" The operative smiled a shark's smile, turning to Ellie. "And you, Dr. Woodcombe? That is your married name, isn't it? I find myself wondering what your maiden name was. Bartowski, by any chance?"

Sarah threw her gun at him, as accurate as any knife.

But slower. The operative reached out and caught without even turning his head. _Then_ he turned his head, and nodded, prompting his men behind Sarah to cuff her. "Feet too." Her feet were shackled, with only enough chain to allow her to walk. Only then did the Force Leader say, "Leader, the room is secure."

Leader swept into the hall from the electrical room they'd just passed, and all the minions stood to one side. Ellie, it seemed, wasn't worth even a single Leader-ish glance, not that she felt motivated to complain.

With her feet restrained, Leader was free to move within kicking distance, and even closer than that. She saw herself reflected in the eyepieces of Leader's mask, and wondered what he was staring at.

"Agent…Walker."

Sarah smirked in his masked face. "Wrong on both counts, Lord Vader. I'm Mrs. Bartowski."

"Agent Carmichael made a similar joke about my appearance, right before I ended his life. So I find myself wondering, who is your true husband, the famously elusive and now dead Agent Carmichael, or the not so famous or especially intelligent Charles Irving Bartowski?"

Sarah struggled forward, even cuffed and held as she was. "Do _not_ insult him! Charles Bartowski is a hero! He took that laudanol capsule himself, rather than allow it to fall into enemy hands."

"_My_ hands, as it turns out, Mrs. Carmichael. I had been wondering why the mission failed. Your 'hero' must have become quite the monster."

"I've just discovered a new definition of 'monster'," growled Sarah.

Leader turned away. "Level Three containment. Put her with her friend."

* * *

Carina stood in stunned amazement as a horde of very large men descended upon the parking lot, moving to 'gear up' in incredible silence. One of them walked over to her. "You're Agent Miller?"

She nodded.

"Welcome to the Janitors."

The _who?_ "You're not going to make me clean something?"

He smiled. "Only as much as Tough Guy does." The men standing around laughed.

A shrill squealing sound drew their attention to the gate, where somebody on a bicycle practically crashed in to a post. "Looking…for…Miller," he puffed out, chest heaving.

Carina pushed forward. "I'm Miller." The other men continued their preparations, faces turned discreetly away but listening closely.

"Package for you." He pushed himself away from the post and doffed his backpack, from which he pulled out a slim package. "He told me he'd pay me triple if I got it here in a half hour."

"Who said?"

"The guy who gave me this," said the messenger, holding out a plastic disk with a red spot in the center. "I need your thumbprint to get paid."

Carina pressed her thumb against the red spot, mostly out of curiosity to see what would happen. The spot lit up and the disk made a 'ping' sound.

"Thank you." The man pedaled off, very slowly.

The big man walked over to her. "What is it?"

"No idea." Carina looked it over, found a flap of paper with her name on it. She lifted the flap. _Give this to my son._ "But I know who it's from."

* * *

The minions had just finished securing the prisoners when Leader appeared at the door. "Leave us." The guards scurried out, and Leader continued, "You look great, Walker. Love suits you, I guess."

Sarah looked from side to side, as if either of her allies had any better idea what was going on than she did. "What?"

"It didn't suit me," said Leader. "It's a useful tool, and a means to power, nothing more."

"If that's what you truly believe then I feel sorry for you."

"Don't bother, Agent Walker. Soon enough you will be dead, while I will be anything but."

"My name is Bartowski."

"I know. But our first meeting was so brief, so shattering, that you will always be Agent Walker in my eyes."

"Most of the men I meet briefly and shatteringly don't live to have a second meeting."

"Neither did I."

"I'm sorry. You know what they say, I never forget a face, but…" Sarah shrugged.

"Let me jog your memory," said Leader, reaching up into the cowl. Several snaps were heard, and the mask came loose, as Leader's hands came down.

Sarah paled, teeth clenched, a keening noise coming out of her nose as she forced herself back against the stone wall of the cell.

"What's the matter, Sarah?" said Eve Shaw. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

* * *

**A/N2 **Oh yes. Moo-ha-ha. (Stupid Shaw couldn't even say 'mwah-ha-ha' right.)


End file.
